And here no longer can I call thee mine.
But how can I against God's will repine?
He will restore thee, and my loss repair,
Sweet, growing, endless joys with thee to share,
And with the holy who in glory shine!
E'en now thy spirit lives, and joins the song,
Which breaks like torrent from the harps of gold
Resounding through heav'n's arches by the throng
Of ransom'd sinners and with joys untold,—
"Let Wisdom, Honor, Pow'r in highest strain